


All the things Thomas doesn't know about his boyfriend.

by nanasteiger



Series: barman!Mario/student!Thomas [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Mario's past was so miserable i'm so sad for him, Past Relationship(s), alternative universe, barman!Mario, bff!Bastian, student!Thomas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-02 00:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasteiger/pseuds/nanasteiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas doesn’t know that Mario used to smile more when he was younger. Thomas doesn't know about Mario's past, when Bastian was his only friend, and maybe he'll never know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the things Thomas doesn't know about his boyfriend.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of a bigger collection i wrote in italian but i will try to translate soon (the base is an Alternative Universe where Mario is a barman seven years older than Thomas who just finished high school, all the stories that come before are not essential to understand the senso of this story but it could be useful so, if you understand italian you can read them on my lj: nana-believe.livejournal.com) 
> 
> In this story we have all the Mario background -all the tragedies in his life, like he's a giant loser and all the tragedies in the world are combined in his person- from Bastian point of view.

Thomas doesn’t know that Mario used to smile more when he was younger, he doesn’t know how he used to be careless, to have all that fun now he tries to avoid –like he doesn’t deserve it anymore- with all his old friends that now are out of his life, how he used to have parties, dancing and getting drunk. Bastian instead remember all too well. The dinner’s at Per’s when they all pretended to be this awesome clumsy strange band using Per’s older brother’s instruments until the neighbours stared to complain. Bastian remember how Mario was always the heart of their parties, starting to sing from nowhere his meaningless Spanish songs and everybody, even the so shy Mesut who at the time barely talked, had to dance with him, who used a pepper shaker as microphone.

Thomas can’t know –he was just a baby then- how good Mario was with a ball between his feet in high school, how smooth were his passes, how fast and incredibly elegant and strong he was, he doesn’t know that their coach in the football team of the school was so sure about his future in a big team he even arranged a meeting with some Bundesliga teams –Stuttgard was the most interested and Mario was so happy, so faithful, ready to leave.

Thomas doesn’t know about Mario’s first year –and last- in college, when his enthusiasm was so passionate and contagious he even prevail upon him and Lukas to do the same, even if they never thought about it (he doesn’t know how that decision changed their life and how grateful Bastian still is).

Thomas doesn’t know, and probably never will, how many problems, how many tragedies that little, stranger Mario had to deal with during his teenage years. Since the divorce of his parents and his mother ripping him out of his Spain and the bullies and his difficulties with german people and language and the injuries and that fucking knee who ruined everything good was in his life. Thomas doesn’t know how broken Mario was when he was only nineteen and his mother decided to marry a man –a too old, too violent and too rich man- who wanted to move again but leaving him behind. _You’re an all grown up man_ his mother said _if you want to stay in Munich you have to do it on your own_.

He doesn’t know about those nights in which Mario didn’t sleep and those days in which he never ate, working too much trying to earn the money for the university, he doesn’t know how devastated he was when he had to give up, forced to choose between school and a roof on his head; he wasn’t there like Bastian was. He doesn’t know how stubborn he had become when all his friends were trying to help him and how he built that huge castle –with barred doors and a moat and hungry crocodiles- that everyone, sooner or later, was tired to run into.

Thomas can’t remember, he can’t even suggest how hard was to stay close to him, in his life. Only Bastian was with Mario when he worked so hard he couldn’t keep his eyes open and refused to talk about how unhappy he was. Only Bastian was with him when he finally broke down, crying all night long because he was so tired and so young and so miserable, because he felt he had no purpose and no future and clenched at Bastian with all his strength because he was his only family.

Thomas will probably never know about those desperate nights in which they both gave vent to all their frustrations –Bastian was losing Lukas and school was coming to end and he was so unsure about the future and he was so scared- with angry kisses and clothes tore off and loud, meaningless sex they thought could become something more, they hoped that with time they could be able to force themself in love, they hoped that should have helped to make them feel less lonely. And then they started to work for Micha, after Lukas leaving, and they started to live again. The five years of Bastian’s university were over and Mario had a stable job and house. They both lost their friends but started to socialize again after years of only the two of them, then Sarah came in Bastian’s life and suddenly they were less alone.

Thomas only know so little about Mario. What is a year compared with their story? What is a month of relationship with he tragedies he had to deal with for so long?

Thomas doesn’t know, he can’t remember, he can’t even suggest, will never be able to talk about the younger smiles, the dinners, the tears, the football dreams, the university defeat, the money, his mother, the Spain, his bed, his books, the screams, that little Mario who couldn’t speak a german word, that Mario who used to sing, that Mario who couldn’t sleep. And Bastian was so afraid at first, looking at this little boy pushing a little to much, at how determinate he was to go close, where no one had ever went except from him. It was almost fascinating to watch, his climbing and his falling on and off Mario’s walls. The process was amazing, the determination unbelievable and then, from a little crack in that castle of glass, he broke in and maybe Mario wasn’t even aware but all was done, everything was already written. Bastian wasn’t even that jealous –worried maybe, like a father who watch his son cycling alone for the first time-, all he could feel was the relief that at the end Mario had found that person that could show him how to be whole again.

Thomas will never know, will never understand how special, how lucky he is. They can built new dreams, smiles, dinners. He has in his hands a brand new Mario and what is that new, bright smile as compared with the fake ones he used to have only a few year ago? What is the promise of a future together in comparison with the miserable past they were trying so hard to forget?

 

“Be good with my boy” he once said to Thomas, with a serious face, months before, when Mario was still that stubborn dumbass who couldn’t understand was going on. But even then, in Thomas’ eyes, behind that mug almost empty, in his usual spot in their bar, he saw the awareness, the maturity so unusual for a seventeen years old boy, and then he knew that he was right, that he could trust him. 


End file.
